


Stranger Danger

by AvatarofAroha



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 21:37:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10795248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvatarofAroha/pseuds/AvatarofAroha
Summary: Jonathan has decided to put off university for a year while his brother Will recovers and to help out financially at home.He decides to do a course in photography though Indiana Institute of Technology and finds out the hot punk he has been stalking all over Hawkins for the last month is his new photography tutor.To make matters worse she is British, she rides a motorbike and she's a really big Clash fan.Absolute unobtainable perfection that is going to wreck him for anyone, ever.Well, that's one way to get over Nancy...





	1. Chapter 1

Jonathan had wandered up into the forest, hoping to get some moody dusk shots. He had been trying to capture images of his fears as a kind of therapeutic process, to gain power over these spaces that haunted his nights.  
As he approached a clearing he glimpsed a pair of grubby black boots poking out from behind a tree. His heart started hammering in his throat; a fucking dead body! Oh God! But then the boot started moving rhythmically as an off key voice erupted into song; "This is radio clash on pirate satellite, orbiting your living room, cashing in the bill of rights..."  
It was a woman's voice, an actual female, in boots, singing the new Clash single, Shit!   
Well that didn't calm him down much more than the prospect of a dead body.  
Jonathan crept around in a wide circle, eager to see the rest of this curious stranger without her spotting him.  
There she lay in the mottled shade of the tree. His vision of feminine perfection stretched out on a tartan blanket, headphones pinning back long midnight hair and her black rimmed eyes closed. She was wrapped in a long khaki army coat with tightly clad denim legs ending in black Doc Martins boots, there was a bottle of beer in her hand and a few more peeking from the opening of her rucksack beside her.  
Jonathan wondered if there perhaps was a god after all.  
After all the shit he had been through, finally; here was a woman made from the very fabric of his dreams. She was everything that was cool, desirable and essential to him.  
What the hell was she doing in a shithole like Hawkins?  
He imagined how he might introduce himself as he crouched down to watch her.  
He might say something about how much he was enjoying the Combat Rock album, or ask where she got her awesome coat from. Oh Fuck, no, he couldn't actually talk to her. She'd probably just call him a perve and tell him to piss off.  
Without even really thinking about it Jonathan had lined up a shot of her with his new camera, lying on his stomach to frame her with blurred grass; leaving her body in focus.  
He took several at varying exposures to make sure it at least one shot would work.  
Her singing wasn't great, it made her seem human; like maybe he would be able to talk to her after all.  
No. There was no way, especially after he had photographed her. He was actually being a total pervert.  
The woman rolled onto her side to change the tape in her walkman; facing away from the direction Jonathan was in.  
He took a chance and crept through the trees, getting closer; wanting to see her more clearly, to hear more of what she was singing.  
Pressed against a wide tree, he could see the side of her face now, he was dangerously close. If she scanned the trees she might spot him, but Jonathan found himself completely unable to resist finding out more.  
He could see her heavy eyeliner; stark against her pale skin. He was captivated by the way her hair was cut short on this side; it was so edgy. She had three piercings in her ear, looking at them made Jonathan's skin tingle. It was so weird to see such a strange and exotic creature here in his woods; listening to his music; being so like him but so, so much cooler and so utterly female.  
Jonathan wondered briefly if she was some siren from the Upside Down; a perfectly tailored trap to lure him in.

Her voice warbled across to him, allaying the threat of this new idea;  
"We're so wonderfully wonderfully wonderfully  
Wonderfully pretty!  
Oh you know that I'd do anything for you  
We should have each other to tea huh?  
We should have each other with cream  
Then curl up by the fire  
And sleep for awhile  
It's the grooviest thing  
It's the perfect, FUCK!"  
She sat up suddenly, grabbing the walkman and ejecting the tape; the brown coils sliding from it explaining her distress.  
"Fucking cunting piece of shit!" She yelled, in a voice that sounded decidedly British.  
Jonathan had never heard anyone use the C word before, especially as a verb. He didn't know anyone else who listened to The Cure either, especially not a female. Come to think of it he didn't know any females who knew any good music at all. He had assumed girls just didn't care about decent music.  
The woman was rummaging through her rucksack, Jonathan saw her pull out a pen and start the careful process of winding the tape back into the cassette.  
He was feeling very short of breath after hearing his dream woman swearing like a sailor. It was excruciatingly hot to hear the word 'fucking' escape from those lips.  
Jonathan decided to sneak away now and deal with his rather urgent reaction to the peculiar events.

Scrambling into the house, hunched to hide his straining pants; Jonathan was simultaneously pleased and guilty to find noone home. He knew Will was at Mike's house because he was going to collect him at six. He guessed Mom was at work, which gave him at least an hour to, well, have a wank, basically.  
He locked the front door just in case.  
He put Combat Rock on his turntable, drew the curtains tight and pulled off his boots.  
His jeans didn't come off quite so easily, the rough material rubbing over his hyper sensitive and swollen cock, making him groan at the pleasurable pain.  
He hurried into the bathroom, clad in socks, underpants and a t shirt; flinging open the vanity to grab his mother's hand cream and a roll of toilet paper.  
He made it back to his bed in time for the rolling drum intro to Car Jamming, rubbing his throbbing length to the beat.  
Jonathon stretched himself on the bed, face into the cool pillow; imagining it was her pale skin; her long neck, her blushed cheek.  
Closing his eyes he remembered the rings of metal decorating her ear; imagined himself mouthing them, how they would feel between his teeth. Then his tongue on her lobe, whispering "I'm going to fuck you, hard" right in her ear.  
Should I Stay or Should I Go came on, Jonathan had to get up to move the needle to the next track; that one reminded him of his brother and all of the shit he wanted to forget. He just couldn't come to that track; it was way too wrong.  
Rock the Casbah was next; perfect, Joe sounded like he was saying 'fuck the casbah' and maybe that was her name; 'Casbah". Exotic. She had said 'fucking'; he could hear it, her voice, that accent. He peeled his underpants down, rolled onto his back, smeared hand cream over his straining cock and started wanking furiously.  
The beat was faster, her could see her mouth on that bottle, like it would be on his cock and she was saying 'keep fucking me, fuck, fuck, fucking, fuck.'  
Jonathan eyes were screwed shut, his jaw clenched, thighs shaking, hand working frantically up and down his shaft and over his weeping head. The tension grew to breaking point, his scrotum tightening, teeth grinding, guitars wailing when with a series of shuddering grunts he came, thick white threads spurting and sliding onto his pubic hair.  
After a moment of obligatory self loathing, Jonathan wiped himself off, thin budget toilet paper sticking in his gluey hair.  
He looked at his thick thatch of dark brown curls, framing his now flaccid cock. He wondered if she had pubes, or if she'd shaved them like she'd probably shaved the side of her head. Would they be rough like his, or did girls have soft pubes? He ran his fingers through them, pulling at the tight curls.  
Oh fuck. This was ridiculous, he smelt his guilty hand, he reeked of come. It was probably time for a shower. He checked his watch; only 20 minutes had passed, he could have a nice long shower and probably another wank before he had to go and get Will.  
Hmm, or he could get dinner ready. His faithless mind showed him the woman wrapping her British lips around an all American hot dog; sauce smearing the corners of her mouth, sighing with pleasure.  
Yeah, so they would have hot dogs for dinner, easy. Oh, and he needed another wank now, definitely.


	2. Chapter Two

Later that night, when his mother had returned and Will was in bed, Jonathan put on his uniform and went to work to pack shelves for a few hours. He was working almost every night now, helping Joyce pay the bills and buy food since she had dropped half of her shifts to look after Will on his frequent bad days.

Pulling in to the store carpark he heard a motorbike burbling it's way up next to his car. Hardly anyone in Hawkins rode a motorbike; so Jonathan was curious to see who it was.  
He wound down the window and turned up The Smith's on his stereo ; feeling that "Hand in Glove" accurately portrayed his tortured inner self to anyone that mattered.  
The tank appeared in his view, bearing the legend 'Triumph', a black clad and feminine thigh captured Jonathan's attention before he turned away, trying to feign cool disinterest.  
He failed. He looked to see more.  
The shapely thigh was joined by another and a pert denim backside as the rider swung her leg across the bike and tantalisingly slowly removed her helmet. Black hair tumbled out over leathered shoulders.  
OH fuck! It was the woman from the woods; Fuck the Casbah!  
She hung the helmet on her handlebars and pushed her keys into her pocket.  
Jonathan's mouth grew dry, he legitimately had to follow her in or he would be late for work.  
He reminded himself that she hadn't seen him before, had no idea he had photographed her, much less blew his load over her, twice.  
He tried picturing the bloated and blood smeared roadkill he'd passed to dim his slathering lust. It worked adequately enough for him to get out of his car and enter the store.

Jonathan mumbled greetings to his boss and got to work unpacking boxes and stacking the shelves; all the time acutely aware that his dream desire was stalking the aisles in black leather and tight denim; that mouth full of obscenities only a few feet away.  
A soft creaking sound raised the hairs on the back of his neck; Oh Mother of Christ, she was right behind him. He was frozen, box of pancake mix in his hand, eyes wide, trying to recall how breathing occurred.  
"Um, excuse me, Hello?"  
Jonathan turned, painfully slowly, hoping she wasn't addressing him; his face glowing crimson.  
Large green eyes, described in thick kohl assaulted his privacy, his tongue refused to form words. Jonathan tried to shape his face into polite responsiveness, his eyebrows may have risen, mouth creasing hopefully upwards.  
She leaned closer, her scent reaching him as she peered at his labelled chest, heady oriental musk that made his cock twitch and stomach lurch.  
"Jonathan is it, Hi, ah I was wondering, do you have any biscuits, ah, no, um cookies sorry, made with wheat and dipped in chocolate and ah, English breakfast tea?"

Instantaneously filing away the sound of his name spoken in that voice; Jonathan tried again to speak.  
"'Yeah, hurm, gnh" Jonathan muttered, pointing down to the end of the aisle before shuffling awkwardly to the place he had indicated, all hope of coherent speech lost. He pointed at a box of health cookies that met her requirements then turned to the opposite side, bent down to the lowest shelf and grabbed a tin of black Twinings tea.  
"Oh, thank you. I had almost given up hope." She grinned at him, showing off charmingly crooked teeth. Like Bowie's he thought. 'Sexy' his libido added.  
She paused then, scanning Jonathan slowly from head to toe. Smiling a new, more sensuous smile, one that was his alone. His knee's threatened to give out then, molten lust flooding his nerve receptors.  
"Mmph" he said, turning and walking as quickly as he could to the staff bathroom.  
Closing the stall door, Jonathan banged his head upon it repeatedly.  
Holy Fuck if that wasn't the most ridiculously, fucking insanely, intensely sex crazed, searingly hot moment that had ever occured in his realms of possibility.  
Oh God, she had Looked at him, like properly. Oh and she spoke to him too, and she was wearing a leather jacket and she was on a fucking motorbike and her eyes, and those teeth. Oh, she smiled at him like a hungry and hypnotic snake.  
Jonathan banged his head a few more times because a wank was not an option; embarrassment had killed his semi and besides, it was a public bathroom and he had standards. Well, so far.  
He peered out into the store once his heart had stopped hammering and his face had quit burning.  
She was gone.  
For now.

 

So now he found himself turning up early for his night shifts, hoping to see her again. Filing away a mental catalogue of all of the exotic items they stocked that she might like, that she might ask him for personally.  
When he wasn't at work he would cruise the neighborhood in his car, listening and looking out for that Triumph rumbling around. It was pathetic, he knew that, but he didn't care, someone that hot was worth his eternal shame. Besides, he couldn't think about much else, it was a welcome distraction from Will's blank eyes and his mother's growing drinking habit.  
Nancy and Steve were so fucking happy with each other again, the monsters were vanquished, he had time to kill.

What he did need to concentrate on was putting together a photo selection for his upcoming photography course.  
A view in the life or some such bullshit. It was below him, but he had to do an amazing job regardless; if only to show the other people on his course that he was the real deal.  
He wanted the image to be dark and edgy, to show the depth of his pain and suffering.  
Late afternoon offered up the best contrast in his monochrome portrayals, so at 4.30pm Jonathan was crouched across the street from his work, trying to encapsulate the loneliness and nihilism of the store under florescent light. To capture soulless shoppers losing hope among the poisonous crap that was peddled to them. Or something like that.

He took a few shots from outside and then a few more from the staff bathroom, one foot holding open the door as he bent in half to get the right, suitably oppressive angle, framed with peeling paint and grime.  
Perfect.  
He found himself wishing Casbah Woman would walk in and see him at his art, and in that moment she would understand his soul and fall completely in love with him and fuck his brains out on the regular.  
She didn't, it was just the usual parade of regulars shuffling by as he stocked hideously false images of domestic bliss smeared across boxes and cans of shit into rows and rows designed to bewilder and entice the vapid consumers.  
Jonathan sighed, running his hands through his hair and wishing he had been selfish enough to go to NYU after all.


	3. Chapter Three

Jonathan got up early on his first day of his course; eager to look and smell as good as he could for a class full of new people. Maybe at least one of them would be cool. He needed new friends; Nancy and Steve were leaving him behind soon, the prospect made him feel even more alone than usual. Seeing them together hurt, but not seeing them at all for months would be worse.

Finding the right room sent Jonathan into a panic; Indiana Tech was so much bigger than his school, and this was only the local campus.  
Finally he found a door with a notice for "Photography and Design, Room 14".  
Pushing his way inside and avoiding eye contact with the bodies present; he selected an empty chair near the front and pulled a pristine new exercise book from his bag along with a pen, which he promptly began to gnaw the end of.  
Looking around surreptitiously from behind his hair, Jonathan saw a few fairly cool looking guys and a couple of interesting looking girls. A couple seemed to know each other, having a whispered conversation and tittering nervously. Jonathan immediately assumed they were laughing at him and turned rigidly to face the front, dedicating his full attention to doodling a crumbling cityscape on the cover of his book.

"Hello everyone, sorry I'm a bit tardy, some bastard cut me off and I came off my bike. Not the best start ever, lucky I had spare pants or you'll all be getting a right bloody show, ha! Sorry, inappropriate image, but nevermind. My name is Victoria Graham and I am your photography tutor for the next six weeks, you poor buggers. Here I'll write it up on the board for you. You can all just call me Vic though, please, we're all equals here. There's no point standing on ceremony, I've just been faffing about in photography a bit longer than you lot, but I'm sure you have your own areas of expertise that you can share, ha, speaking of which, any mechanics in the room? No? Bugger."  
The woman had barrelled in the door like a whirlwind, talking at high speed, scrawling her name on the blackboard whilst simultaneously rifling through her satchel and hopping on one leg.  
When she finally paused and turned to survey her students Jonathan felt his jaw fall open in horror; it was her; Casbah Woman, the vision that accompanied every furious wank and filthy thought this month, the voice he heard in his head enticing him to "Fucking, fuck me Jonathan", as clear as day.  
She was looking almost like a regular adult, her hair dressed to the side to cover the short section, less eyeliner and a red blouse over black trousers. More classic movie star than punk now, but still devastating him utterly.  
Why, WHY had he decided to sit up the front?

"Alright, well sooner we start sooner we can get to the nitty gritty of actually making art yeah? So lets all introduce ourselves then we can get out of this nasty little classroom and take some photos. Have you all got an image to share? I find it will tell us more about you than small talk, so I hope you did your homework!"  
Vic grabbed the chair from behind the tutor desk and dragged it next to Jonathan.  
"Hi, you look familiar, what's your name?" Vic asked, peering at him.  
"Jona, uh, Joe. Joe Byers" Jonathan croaked. He had decided to be Joe from now on, make a break from all the Hawkins shit and reinvent himself as an artist.  
"Joe huh, like Joe Strummer, cool, I can remember that. Do you have an image to share Joe?"  
Jonathan could hardly breathe, but the will to impress her was stronger than his desire to flee, so with shaking hands he pulled his photo folder from his bag and flipped to the image he had taken of his little brother standing in front of their house.  
It was black and white, taken in the haze of dusk from a low angle. The house stood out stark against the dark looming trees. Will stood in shadow, just barely side lit from the window, blurred but visible, like a ghost.  
"Oh, oh wow Joe. God, wow, that gives me goosebumps. Brilliant." Vic sounded genuinely awed by the image. 

Jonathan felt a swell of pride, he'd really debated over sharing that one, it wasn't the one he had planned to show, but when it had turned out to be her, well, he made an instantaneous decision. He wanted her to really see him; to understand. But now he felt vulnerable at her reaction, it sounded like she did get it, like she saw who he was and now he couldn't take it back.  
She went around the rest of the class, they said their names and shared their photos. Jonathan couldn't hear them clearly over the blood pounding in his ears. The girl with the red hair had a interesting shot of an old couple in front of a barn that he liked. The guy at the back in the bottle glasses had a cool shot of a dog in a dress in a shopping trolley, Jonathan thought that would make an awesome album cover. He was pleased there was some actual talent here, those two might be worth making friends with, if he could manage to tear even an ounce of his attention away from Vic.  
She was back up the front, hobbling over to lean heavily on his desk.  
"Well, I was thinking we would go outside and find text to photograph, you know; zoom right in on a word from a sign, or graffiti or a road sign. Something that speaks to you. I looked around campus the other day and found loads of great text, and I did fully intend to guide you around til you found something inspiring. Uh, but my leg is pissing out blood it would seem. Sorry, excuse my language. So I will set that as your homework and you can show me in the lab tomorrow what you found when we move on to developing techniques okay?" Vic dropped into the chair next to Jonathan, he could see the dark stain on her trousers over her knee and down her calf.  
The students filed out, hesitating in obligatory false concern, but saying nothing more than goodbyes.  
"Can I get you, uh, a first aid kit or something?" Jonathan asked as he rose. Their bodies closer now, an excuse to move away becoming vital.  
"Oh, Joe, that would be great, the office should have one. Um, down the corridor then right. Sorry to be a pain, I should have had my leather pants on I know, or drive a bloody car like a sensible person."  
"Sensible is slow suicide" Jonathan said, inspired by her beauty to dry lyricism.  
Vic laughed.  
He rushed away to get a first aid kit, his pulse racing at the prospect of doing something for her, of nearness, of intimacy.

Jonathan returned at speed, pulling out antiseptic spray and a crepe bandage before he even sat down.  
Vic had stopped smiling, pain was showing on her face now. He wondered how old she was, not eighteen anyway.  
"Oh, thank you Joe, God I feel like such an idiot. Sorry to hold you up. I think I can manage now."  
She had pushed her trouser leg up above her knee and an angry red graze weeping blood was visible.  
Jonathan couldn't leave her now, yet he didn't want to assume he could touch her, he wasn't even sure if he could stop shaking enough to try. He passed her the spray which she used generously over her wound.  
"Uh, I'm not in any hurry. Um. Maybe I can take you to a doctor? He passed her the bandage.  
"Oh, ah, I don't think so, no insurance with a short term contract I'm afraid. I've come off plenty of times anyway, just a cup of tea and a lie down, fixes everything you know" Vic looked up at him, trying to smile as she tucked back the hair that had fallen from her ponytail.  
Jonathan saw then that there was a graze on her wrist too. He was adamant then that he would take her home, she must be really hurting.  
Vic managed to wrap her leg in the bandage, only showing the occasional wince.  
"Can I give you a ride home, your bike should be okay here overnight." Jonathan offered, not sure how to respond if she said no, his stomach churning in nervousness.  
"Well, it would be rude to say no after all of your help. Plus I am not entirely sure my bike is okay, I was in such a rush to get here I didn't really check. So yes please Joe, that would be lovely."  
Together they shuffled out of the campus, Vic leaning on Jonathan and poor Jonathan trying desperately to act like this was no big deal; that close proximity to women was completely normal for him.  
Jonathan opened his car door for her, frantically trying to remember if there was anything incriminating on the seat or in his tape collection on the floor.  
Vic carefully arranged herself in the seat as Jonathan got behind the wheel, the stereo came on as he started the engine.  
It was one of his mix tapes, some Bowie, a bit of New Order and Joy Division, The Cure; a melancholy kind of mix.  
"Oh, you like British bands huh? oooh, you've got great taste." Vic had leaned forward to read his scrawl on the tape covers.  
"Um, yeah" Jonathan wanted to expound the virtues of his favourite bands but driving and being near her was using all of his available concentration.  
"Uh, where am I taking you, are you local, or...?" Jonathan managed to ask after pulling out of the campus, eyes fixed firmly on the road.  
"Oh, I'm over by Hawkins, do you know it? On the main route just outside town in a little farm house. I couldn't resist, it was cheap and so very Americana y'know? Oh God, I'm sorry, it's a bit of a drive isn't it. I like the long straight roads on my motorbike, but I didn't imagine having to scab a ride off anyone. I'm lucky to have such a sweetie in my class huh?" Vic chattered in what Jonathan thought was an endearing way. He wondered if she did other things as fast as she talked.  
"I live in Hawkins, so it's no problem. Is it that place with the split lightning tree?"  
"Yes! You do know it! Isn't it amazing, I've already shot off about thirty reels on that tree, trying to get the spookiest frame. Go on, tell me the last family was axe murdered there or something horrifying. I always wanted to stay in a haunted house. Well, an American haunted house, not cold, old British moldy haunted. Our haunted places are all dark corners of violence and oppression. It's different here, the dark, like emptier somehow, drier or something. You live in Hawkins huh, is that why you looked familiar?" Jonathan was insantly transfixed by her description, remembering the clutching warmth and pulsating moisture of the Upside Down. He shuddered involuntarily.  
"Yeah, uh, I think I saw you in the general store. I work there most nights."  
"Oh, cool. Ha! Maybe you can show me the sights." Vic laughed. Jonathan's heart sank that she hadn't remembered him from what was a deeply significant event for him.  
"This is a such great track, I wish I'd been able to see them live. I have been to a New Order gig though, that was fantastic." Vic said as Love Will Tear Us Apart started.  
Jonathan looked over and smiled, turning up the volume. Shared music appreciation was making this so much easier, it filled the spaces he wasn't able to talk in.

By the time they were on the third tape Jonathan was pulling up the metal road to Vic's farm house accommodation.  
As it turned out the interior was as faded and antique as the exterior; scarred wooden floors, lumpy old chairs and dusty lace curtains.  
"Now Jonathan I insist you stay for a minute and share a beer with me. You aren't in a hurry are you?"  
"No, I'm free until, uh, about seven." Jonathan's pulse raced at the prospect of more time with Vic, alone, in private.  
"Fantastic! Ordinarily I would have tea on offer but there are no proper bloody kettles here and I can't be arsed standing at the stove, so beer is the only other realistic option. So have a rummage in the kitchen, there should be beer in the fridge and a stein in the pantry if you need something other than the bottle to drink out of. Oh, there's probably a bottle opener in the top drawer. I just need to get these fucking pants off and find some painkillers, back in a mo." Vic blatted out as she left his side to go hobbling up the stairs.  
Jonathan was stuck on the phrase "Get these fucking pants off" and knew he would need to recall it in all it's glorious breathy detail later on.  
He looked around the ground floor, trying to find evidence of Vic's inner world; personal effects; clues to her personality and such. There was barely anything lying in plain sight. The fridge stocked full of beer, white bread, cheese slices and little else told him she wasn't much of a real grown up after all. It made him smile, this private knowledge; he was probably more responsible at eighteen than she was at, well, however old she was.

She limped back down the stairs ten minutes later in a tartan mini skirt, sheepskin slippers and a black woolen jersey. Jonathan was perched on the edge of a tattered brocade armchair, second beer in hand, trying to look off to the distance in a manner he hoped was brooding and mysterious.

"Well so much for the proscribed professional distance between tutor and student huh Joe? My first overseas teaching position and I have already broken the rules. First fucking day. Nevermind, I promise I already knew you were going to be my top student the second I saw that shot you took. Honestly, it's world class, right down to your process choices."  
"Uh, thanks? Y'know, it's okay, this is cool. You're not anything like any teacher I know anyway, they're all kinda old and conservative." Jonathan's thumbnail found it's way between his teeth; he'd wanted to tell her how cool it was to have her here in his town, as his teacher, his inspiration; how the distraction of her was more than he'd been able to hope for.  
"Ha, well there's no danger of that. I've tried to tone myself down for work, but I think I could still take it down a few notches before I stop getting stared at. Oh and the tutting, honestly I thought only old English women did that." Jonathan huffed out a laugh, having no idea what 'tutting' was.  
She grabbed the beer he had opened for her on the side table and sank into the couch with her legs stretched across the cushions. Jonathan tried not to notice how high up her skirt was riding, or to notice how smooth and creamy the expanse of thigh on display was. With Herculean effort he turned his gaze away to fix it instead on the bookshelf.  
Her sigh of pleasure as she pulled the half drained beer bottle from her lips made him blush.  
She turned to him, languid now, a smirk playing across her lips.

"So Joe, tell me more about yourself, I need to get some background on my knight in shining armour. Tell you what, I'll make it easy; three questions and then you can throw them back to me yeah? Number One; what is your perfect day? Number Two; Who would you like to meet most of all and Number Three; what super power would you choose to have if you could?"

"Uh, hmm, my perfect day is a whole day to explore and photograph new things, maybe with someone who can enjoy being quiet and peaceful. Then lying in the late afternoon sun listening to music with a cold beer and um, pepperoni pizza. Y'know not having to really do anything in particular." He ran his hands through his hair, imagining it was her he could spend a quiet day with. "Uh, number two, I want to meet Joe Strummer, well lots of people really, but I think he'd be pretty interesting to talk to and not too kinda 'conceited rock star', y'know?" He looked over at Vic, she was grinning at him. She waved him on to keep going. He slugged the last of his beer before continuing.  
"Okay, uh number three, super power. Oh, shit, that's hard. Probably super strength, y'know, to protect my loved ones. Or time travel to fix stuff." Jonathan felt a lump in his throat as he thought about how desperately he'd like to be able to undo what happened to Will. How powerless he'd felt, how helplessly angry he still was.  
"Wow, interesting answers Joe. Really cool. That calls for another round I think." Vic was trying to pull herself up to a sitting position, her clothes catching on the cushions and exposing yet more skin.  
Jonathan fetched her a beer and opened it for her.  
"I shouldn't have another, uh, I have work." He said, looking at her soft, sleepy eyes with regret.  
"Oh, of course, sorry, Jesus, I'm already a bad influence. Oh what a shame, you're not going yet though are you?" Vic looked genuinely upset that he might leave her so soon.  
"Um, no. I can stay for a bit longer. I just have to make a phone call if that's okay?"  
"Yes, of course, it's in the hall. Sorry, I know I'm a desperate old hag, I just was really enjoying having someone, you, to talk to."  
"Thanks, I'll just be a minute." Jonathan called home, getting Joyce in a rare lucid state. She told him it was fine if he'd stayed out, encouraged him to have fun; she'd call work for him. She said she was just really eager that he make new friends and get some time off from pressures that he really shouldn't have. Joyce even added that she loved him and not to worry, she and Will were fine.

Jonathan put the phone down feeling much lighter, he had been worried, he was constantly worried and it was a weight he didn't even notice anymore.  
He returned to the lounge happy.  
"So I'm officially free now, it must be your turn for the questions." He smiled, the beer warm in his stomach giving him the courage to pull the armchair closer to Vic.  
"Okay! Well, grab that drink before you get comfy and if you find anything edible would you mind bringing that over too? God, look at me, bloody Lady Muck over here!"  
Jonathan piled bread and cheese slices onto a plate and grabbed two more beers. He figured Vic would need another soon; she seemed to be putting them away with ease. He put them down on the low table between them where she could reach.  
"Oh, you are my hero Joe. Thanks" Vic leaned over to grab a sandwich, revealing not only cleavage as her top gaped but also more of her thighs and the shadow between them.  
Jonathan choked a little on his beer before pulling off his jacket and laying it across his troublesome crotch. Vic didn't appear to notice his predicament at first.  
"So, my turn, do you want me to answer the same questions or do you have different ones?"  
"Ah, the same questions are good." Jonathan replied, shifting incrementally to relieve the pull of his suddenly tight jeans.  
"Okay, here, I'll move over and you can sit here. Then I can put my leg up on that chair and stop flashing you. Sorry! A skirt was the easiest option, but I guess I didn't really think it through."  
Jonathan flushed crimson, averting his eyes as they changed their positions.  
Being closer to her wasn't easing the situation in his pants though. He could feel her warmth and almost taste the malty beer scent radiating from her. Oh fuck he wanted her so bad. 

"Okay, so number one, well mine is a lot like yours, except with the addition of lots of kissing, proper tea, hot chips and a real beer at a live gig to finish off the evening. I'm a woman of simple pleasures. I really like that yours was simple too. Number two, well that would be James Joyce I think, but I would really like to come along with you to hang out with Joe Strummer. I love him too. Oh, and number three, what was number three?"  
"Super power." Jonathan answered between mouthfuls of beer and bread.  
"Right, well, time travel like you perhaps,although my selfishness would probably corrupt all time and space and send us hurtling into oblivion. I don't want to change much though. Or perhaps just a bit of omnipotence, that could be handy." Vic laughed.  
"What would you change?" Jonathan asked before thinking how personal the answer might be.  
"Oh, ah, I would spend more time with my brother. He died, ah, on purpose. About four years ago. I was busy in art school and I wish I could have " Vic stopped, plastering on a teary smile and flicking her hair back. "Anyway, It's fine, I'm fine. Done is done and all that. Hey, let's go for a drive."  
Jonathan leapt up, eager to change the mood; to escape. His chest hurt, he wanted to hold her, to tell her he kind of understood, but she clearly didn't want to think anymore about it. "Okay, I'll give you the grand tour, get ready to be amazed."

Being back in his car with his music eased the tension a little. Jonathan pointed out the mundane features of Hawkins with dry little anecdotes about the people that lived there. Vic was laughing at his stories. They drove around for an hour before Vic started yawning.  
Jonathan dropped her back home, opening the door for her and letting her lean on his shoulder up the path.  
"That was really fun Jonathan, thank you so much. Sorry I'm piking early. I'll see you tomorrow though." Vic said, leaning in to give him a polite hug, the kind that just involved the upper body touching. No kiss goodnight.  
"Yeah, I hope you feel better tomorrow, shall I give you a lift, uh about 7.30?" Jonathan had felt sad to end the evening, but knowing it was less than twelve hours before he saw her again made it bearable; optimistic even.  
"Yes please. Now go and do your homework!" She laughed, moving from him to lean on the door frame.  
"Okay, yes Miss. See ya tomorrow." Jonathan turned back to his car, trying to concentrate on walking normally when he knew she was watching him.

Jonathan was free from terror that night, having replaced his montage of fear with visions of lust that kept him awake long into the witching hour.


	4. Chapter Four

It was on a Friday two weeks later when they did finally kiss.  
Two long weeks of Jonathan cataloging Vic's every move and word for a later excruciatingly detailed replay, to try and establish if she felt anything like he did.  
Everything Vic did was just so casual and effortless; her stream of consciousness monologues in class, the brilliance of her easy smile, her innate coolness. It was driving Jonathan mad; he had committed completely to her all of his attention, his lust, his art. He had no idea if she would reciprocate any of his passion. Again, as with Nancy, there was nothing solid but frustration and hope.

Jonathan had the night off work and had Vic had invited him over for a "Full English". Which it turned out was copious amounts of fried food, beer and a video of some people called Monty Python's Flying Circus.  
As they sat laughing on the couch in a warm alcoholic fuzz with full stomachs, Jonathan found Vic's hand snaking into his. When he turned to look down at it her other hand came up to caress his jaw. Her eyes were on him, hooded and dark. She leaned in and pressed her lips to his, her mouth warm. Jonathan responded as best he could, his free hand sliding through her hair to cradle the back of her head. He opened his mouth slightly, letting her tongue in to taste his own. Vic sighed, arching her back as she lifted her thigh over him to place herself on his lap. The kissing continued with more force, Vic slowly rolling her hips, pressing her mound into Jonathan's crotch.  
It seemed such an odd idea as Jonathan tried to think about this new development objectively; two thick wet tongues pushing against each other, teeth almost touching, breath escaping in gasps. It felt like suffocating, his body sweating, pulsating and locked in the embrace of someone who was taking all of his breath and strength; but someone who was making his body respond, pushing him into a state of readiness for an even greater terror; complete helpless abandon.  
Jonathan knew he should relax and stop thinking, but the loss of control was scaring him. He had imagined this, much, much more than this; but the reality, the force of his physical response, the crushing need, was terrifying.  
"Vic." Jonathan tried pulling away, but she leaned in and caught his mouth again. Jonathan held her upper arms firmly and tried again, louder, firmer.  
"Vic, I'm not, I'm uh, I haven't before." Jonathan tried to explain, the shame creeping in.  
"Oh God!" Vic moved off him, fast. Looking horrified.  
"Oh shit! I'm sorry. Oh Fuck. I didn't think. Oh God, I was just so turned on, I'm sorry. Fuck, I didn't even ask if it was okay. Jesus Christ Joe, I thought you had, you're so mature, and fucking sexy as hell and oh Holy Fuck. Oh my God, I'm so sorry Joe." She held her arms out for a hug, it made Jonathan feel relieved; she wasn't scary. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. It was easier now to explain without the intensity of eye contact.  
"I got scared, sorry. It's okay, I want you, I do, really bad. I just, y'know, don't really know what to do and you were kinda going for it." Jonathan gave a depreciative laugh.  
"I really was." Vic agreed, running her fingers over his arm.  
There was silence for a while as they both formulated the rest of the conversation in their head.  
"I have an idea, what if you just watched me for a bit, would that be okay?" Vic asked huskily, drawing back to look him in the eye.  
"Yeah, yeah that would be okay." Jonathan managed to say.

Vic stood and held out her hand, leading a nervous Jonathan up the stairs to her bedroom.  
She indicated he sit in the chair opposite the bed, then moved a little away to put a record on.  
As the needle scratched its way to the intro she started slowly removing her clothes.  
The music swelled into something recognisable; Jimi Hendrix.  
Jonathan too was swelling, this time it was exquisite. 

Jonathan looked on in wonder, comparing the pale line of her back to that of Nancy's.  
But this was Vic. Vic who wanted him; had said so without teasing him. Vic who was older, experienced. Who had only know him on his own terms as the self created Joe. Who was right here. Who was so beautiful dancing before him.  
She turned and Jonathan's breath caught, her breasts were right there, rounded and glowing like twin moons; so perfectly formed. She caressed them lightly and made her nipples harden. Jonathan saw her muscles dance beneath her creamy skin as she ran her hands over her body and moved her hips to the beat.  
He wanted to reach for his camera, but it was downstairs in his bag. He clutched the arms of the chair instead.

Vic was just in black panties now, she danced toward him, so close he could feel her heat on his face.  
Her hips moved in tantalising circles, her fingers pulling slightly at her waistband.  
Jonathan was so flushed with lust, the heady arousal compelling him to lean forward and press his face into the black lace, licking at her through the material. Somewhere far back in his mind he was shocked at himself, but lower, more urgently he was moaning and close to coming without even having touched himself.  
Vic made a low and guttural sound of approval, slipping her hand beneath her panties; correctly reading the urgency of Jonathan's situation.  
Jonathan's open mouth groaned, gaped and suckled across Vic's stomach and hips as she undulated and rubbed frantically at her clit. Jonathan rubbed himself once, twice, three and four times through his jeans and came violently in the confines of his briefs.  
Vic was on the edge, rubbing and rolling her hips, dark eyes locked on Jonathan. Feeling more confident and curious, he pulled the blace lace barrier down past her knees and hesitantly pushed his forefinger inside her; marveling at the soft sucking heat.  
"Oh Fuck Joe, yes!" she cried, "Oh yeah, move it like you, oh fuck, mmmmm, like you're beckoning me to you."  
Jonathan did as he was told, bending his finger rhythmically inside her, looking curiously at those delicate pinkish, purplish folds moving back and forth so easily under her finger. He paused as she stopped gyrating, thinking he was doing it wrong.  
"DON"T STOP! I'm coming!" Vic ordered, starting to shake.  
Jonathan beckoned again as Vic started to clench and shudder around his finger; he was fascinated with this new ferocious look on her face.  
"Oh fuck Joe, oh fuck, fuck yes. Mmmmm." Vic ground down on his hand a little before extracting herself. Stepping out of her panties to stand at the edge of the bed, she lifted up her hair and stretched.  
"Well, ha, thank you. I hope that was educational. You should probably take those pants off now. I can wash them for you and then maybe dry them on the line. Tomorrow." Passing him a robe she grinned; making Jonathan feel okay about what had just happened, well, more than okay actually. Happy maybe. Like maybe he wanted to learn a little more from his favourite teacher.  
Jonathan stood awkwardly and pulled on the robe. He found his legs to be more than a little shaky, so he leaned on the chair back as he removed his pants and balled up his sticky underwear; bashfully holding them out for Vic.  
"Don't worry, I owe you one after that first day, and for ah, corrupting you. Although, in my defense; you do ooze a kind of maturity and ah, well a kind of danger really. So I remain wholly unconvinced of your innocence." Vic smirked and left the room.  
Jonathan took the opportunity to lose the robe, peel off his tshirt and use it to wipe himself clean.  
Feeling too vulnerable to stand naked, he climbed into the bed to wait for her return.

Vic returned, still naked with two beers, a bottle of oil and an impish look on her face.  
"Ooh, there you are in my bed at last, what a treat. Can I interest you in a massage? I'm a bit crap at it, but it might not kill you." She gave her hips a little wiggle, placed the beers on the nightstand and climbed up onto the bed.  
"Ah, yeah okay." Jonathan didn't know where to look, it was more naked female flesh than he had seen before, skin mags included. There was no escape, not that he wanted to anymore; Vic was all fun one minute and ravening sex beast the next and he loved it. Her playfulness eased the discomfort of his inexperience.  
"Roll over loverboy" Vic purred at him.  
Jonathan did as he was told, feeling less self conscious now that he couldn't see where her gaze might linger.  
The air felt cold on his heated flesh as she peeled back the covers. His apprehension was soon soothed under the spread of warm oil over his skin, her smooth hands forming large circles over his shoulders and back.  
"Relax and enjoy Joe, and don't worry if you fall asleep, that'll just tell me I've done a good job."  
Jonathan hummed a reply, his face having already gone slack under her ministrations. How different this kind of touch, so nurturing and loving.  
His mind finally gave up it's constant stream of worry and dread as she rubbed the tension out of his muscles. Slowly and surely he let go of fear and control, slipping into a untroubled sleep.

Jonathan awoke slowly, his senses attuning to the unfamiliar room, the weight of different blankets, the peculiarity of another body lying along his unclothed side. Vic, his every desire, here within his reach.  
Tentatively he let his hand begin to roam over her sheet covered form. She turned towards him, sleepy eyes opening, the beginnings of a smile animating her face.  
"Last chance to escape Joe, I'll give you ten seconds to make a run for it before I jump that delicious body. Turns out I'm not that honorable when there's hot naked flesh in my bed."  
Jonathan pressed his hardening length up against her thigh, hands sliding beneath the sheet to find undulating curves and hollows.  
"Can't think of where else I'd want to be." He murmured into the soft rise and fall of her breasts.  
"You're sure then?" Vic wiggled further under him, kneading his thighs and arse as his cock pushed against her with blind urgency.  
"Yes." he replied, looking into her eyes before their mouths crashed together. Desire rose between them like a forest fire, obliterating everything but the need to be joined in ecstatic release.  
Vic licked her hand and spread her saliva over her labia and his cock. Her touch making him thrust and jerk involuntarily.  
Jonathan aligned himself with her entrance, she felt like a flower, petals opening for him to climb inside. He pushed past her velvet lips, her contractions pulling him in, a hot and enveloping embrace.  
The flood of sensations from his cock driving instinctual movement from his hips; thrust, withdraw and thrust again.  
Vic was rising up to meet him, their lips, hands and hips colliding in a frenzy of lust.  
Jonathan was in rapture, each time he pushed into her she welcomed him with a moan, a rhythmic crush around his length, a scrape of nails on his scalp and shoulder.  
The searing pressure and burn of release was chasing his every thrust now, closer and closer.  
Vic read the moment in his eyes and stilled her body, holding him tight, a hand at the small of his back and another in his hair. She pulled his head down into the hollow of her neck.  
Jonathan slowed too, making minute movements inside her, extending his oncoming release into an exquisite torture.  
They kissed, exploring with tongues, finding a new pace, need growing again.  
Vic rippled her walls around him, bringing her fingers down between them to rub her clit.  
Achingly slow and shallow his movements, his skin rubbing her lips and busy hand.  
Jonathan was dripping sweat onto her as he fought the urge to slam in to her, he was so close.  
Vic started to shudder, her hips rocking and riding him.  
Jonathan made the few last thrusts he needed to, bursting through the blinding barrier of ecstasy with Victoria, their guttural cries describing their shared release.  
Her arms enclosed him, stronger than he had thought they might be; a protective cage to harness his overwhelming urge to cry and laugh at once.  
Jonathan felt her smoothing his hair next, pressing kisses into his collarbone. He pulled back to look at her, needing confirmation that this was real.  
"Was that.." he began, so unsure and vulnerable.  
"Fucking amazing? Yes, it was." Vic replied, following her verdict with passionate kisses.  
"And after I find some food and beer I will be wanting more, so you can stay right there and relax for a minute, because when I get back I am going to ride you like a fucking racehorse loverboy." With that declaration Vic exited the bed, making for the bathroom with a grin like a Cheshire cat.  
Holy Fuck, his own, personal, perfectly tailored succubus.  
How was he going to survive this?


End file.
